


hammer to fall

by blackkat



Series: Shaak Ti drabbles [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/M, First Meeting, Flirting, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: The whispering is what brings Bruce around.
Relationships: Shaak Ti/Colt (Star Wars), Shaak Ti/Colt/Bruce Wayne
Series: Shaak Ti drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941679
Comments: 45
Kudos: 730
Collections: Star Wars Alternate Universes





	hammer to fall

**Author's Note:**

> Cher, who is wonderful and terrible, won't stop torturing me with tempting plots. This one was: Bruce/Shaak/Colt and waking up to a dozen identical boys faces staring down at him curiously let Bruce know what kind of day it was going to be. He hated magic. At least he had some of his gear and his suit if nothing else, and these kids were willing to answer questions. Aliens he could handle. Magic space monks was pushing it, but Shaak was... Perfectly respectable. There was a certain comradery between him and Colt despite the length of their acquaintance; resignation to the weird shit.

The whispering is what brings Bruce around.

“—go get someone? If he infiltrated the defenses—”

“—don’t be a baby! There's only one of him.”

“Maybe he’s a Jedi?”

“Maybe he’s another bounty hunter—”

“I bet he’s an _assassin_!”

“If he is General Ti’s gonna kick his _shebs_.”

Unfamiliar words, mixed in with the familiar, and Bruce wants to frown. Those are young voices, quiet, with that particular cadence that means they're doing something that’s not entirely permitted and they know it. Bruce is wholly familiar with that particular tone, and with a sinking feeling he opens his eyes, looking up into—

Faces. The _same_ faces, repeated in one after another. They're all the same age, and the resemblance is too perfect for them to simply be siblings. There are too many for twins, even octuplets, and more than that, they're all dressed the same, in what’s clearly a uniform.

Clones, Bruce thinks grimly. He’s never, ever had much luck with clones.

“Hey!” one says, and points a finger at Bruce's face. “You're awake!”

“It’s rude to point,” Bruce says dryly, and pushes his hand away. The boy, who can't be more than fourteen, scowls in offense, but the clone beside him rolls his eyes and tugs him back.

“He’s right, Fives,” he says, and then looks at Bruce with narrow, assessing eyes. “Who are you?”

“ _Echo_ ,” Fives complains, but Echo ignores him, focusing on Bruce instead. Bruce meets his dark gaze evenly, not about to show any hesitance. His cowl is off, but—they're children. It’s fine.

“I'm Batman,” he says.

There's a moment of silence rather than a reaction. Echo frowns, and Fives tips his head, and two of the other clones, even younger, exchange looks.

“That’s a weird name,” Fives says at length.

“Fives!” Echo says, aghast. “You don’t say that about someone’s _name_!”

“It’s true!” Fives protests, and when Echo swats at him, he ducks with the ease of long practice. It’s so much like watching Dick and Jason interact that Bruce can't help a flicker of humor, and he sits up carefully, slowly enough that it won't be taken as a threat. One of the younger boys, with long hair pulled up in a bun, scrambles back, but the others seem perfectly accepting of the movement, and Bruce takes a second to scan his surroundings. White, and glass, and a sea beyond it, with no sign of land and a heavy storm lashing the windows. He can see the curve of another building beyond the one they're in, and it’s built up on stilts, suspended over the water. There's some kind of spacecraft perched on an extended wing, with a strange symbol on the hull.

The boys look human, but that doesn’t mean much. Bruce fell into a wormhole, and there's no telling where he came out.

“So are you an assassin?” a third boy asks, the same age as Echo and Fives. He leans in curiously, and Echo’s hand on his collar is what pulls him back.

“Droidbait, quit!” he says. “Even if he is, he’s not going to tell _you_.”

“He might,” Droidbait says mulishly, but he lets Echo drag him back. It’s not a safe distance, but—it’s probably the closest to it that a fourteen-year-old boy can manage.

“No,” Bruce says, amused. “I'm not an assassin.”

“Aw,” Fives mutters. “I wanted to see General Ti fight.”

“You shouldn’t want the general to be in danger,” the second younger boy, next to the long-haired one, says judgmentally. “That’s _wrong_.”

“She wouldn’t be in _danger_ ,” Fives protests, rolling his eyes. “She’s too strong for that.”

The younger boy scowls, but before he can say anything else, the long-haired one scrambles to his feet. “I’ll go get the general!” he says quickly, and bolts even as Fives tries to grab him.

“Tup, no!” Fives calls, but when Tup doesn’t even slow, he slumps back with a disgusted groan. “Well, there goes our chance to get out of class for the morning.”

Echo and the younger clone both look equally offended by that statement, but Bruce can't see this conversation going anywhere productive and clears his throat. “Sorry,” he says, “but can you tell me where I am?”

Echo blinks, then frowns, but Droidbait immediately offers, “Tipoca City, on Kamino. Past the Rishi Maze, and just beyond the edge of the Outer Rim.”

Definitely a spacefaring civilization, then. Bruce inclines his head in thanks, and asks, “And you are?”

“Clone cadets!” Fives says, grinning proudly. “I'm Fives, and I'm going to be an ARC trooper! This is Echo, and that’s Droidbait, and that’s Dogma. CT-782 and CT-4040 haven’t picked names yet.”

That makes the strange names far more logical, but…the serial numbers are unsettling. Bruce glances at the two unnamed boys, but they don’t seem any different than the others. One, he thinks, is the one who said there was only one of him.

“It’s a pleasure,” Bruce says, a little bemused. “Is there a Green Lantern for this sector?” After all, since it was Guy’s fault he ended up getting flung into a wormhole, Bruce feels very little sympathy about letting Oa know about his mistakes.

It’s one of those things that he would never, ever admit out loud or even think too explicitly, but sometimes working with the new Lanterns makes him miss Hal Jordan fiercely.

“Green Lantern?” CT-782 repeats, frowning. “Is that a ship?”

No Green Lantern, then, Bruce thinks grimly. And since there's no reason the Corps wouldn’t make a Lantern known to an interstellar planet, that likely means he’s somewhere well beyond the Green Lanterns’ territory. Potentially another dimension, though Bruce hates the thought of that. Interdimensional travel is always a headache and a half.

If he’s lucky, there won't be an evil version of him in this universe, but—Bruce doesn’t get lucky often.

Then, loud on the white tile, boots sound. Not a child, with that kind of tread, and Bruce twists to his feet in an instant, rising quickly as Fives yelps and Echo hauls him and Droidbait back. Taking a deliberate step back from them, to make it clear he’s not a threat to them, Bruce lifts his chin and looks down the tall white hallway at the strangers approaching. One is the long-haired clone, practically hidden behind the form of a full-grown man in white armor marked with grey and red, heavily armed. His face is the exact same as the children’s, with his hair shaved close to his scalp and a far darker expression. He has some kind of gun in his hands, ready to raise, and his eyes are fixed on Bruce.

If Bruce does have to fight, he’s very clearly the biggest threat.

And then, soft, the figure behind the armored man says, “Colt, please.”

A feminine voice, low and strangely accented. Bruce frowns, and as Colt turns and looks behind him he catches a glimpse of some sort of headdress, stripped with white and blue—

But then Colt steps deliberately to the side, and Bruce stops, because that’s _not_ a headdress. That’s an alien, a woman with bright red skin marked strikingly with grey and white, her lips silver, her eyes almost violet, two horns rising above her head and falling into two long, blue and white appendages that reach past her waist. She’s wearing plain brown robes, hands folded into the sleeves, and the look on her face is all calm curiosity and tempered grace.

Bruce takes a breath before he can help himself. He doesn’t often want to say that aliens are beautiful, but—she is. Incredibly so. And even more than that, there’s a _weight_ to her, deep and perfectly calm, that seems to settle into Bruce's bones. He’s met monks with the same feeling, old mystics, but—not many others.

She also has Tup attached to her sash like a limpet, and doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Visitor, well met,” she says, smiling, and Bruce is decent with body language, would say at first glance that it’s a genuine expression. He still doesn’t let himself relax. “You are far from your home, are you not?”

“I assume so, since nothing here is familiar,” Bruce says, and flicks another glance at the armored man. The soldier, because there's no doubt that’s what he is. The woman is unarmed, welcoming, but the soldier hasn’t taken his eyes off Bruce for more than a second, and his gloved hands are tight around his gun. He stepped aside when the woman asked, but he’s still more than close enough to step in front of her if Bruce pulls out a weapon.

“General,” Colt says, and the woman turns her head like she’s hearing a whole conversation that Bruce can't. Her mouth curves, humor lighting her eyes, and she raises one hand to cover her chuckle, the other curling around Tup's shoulders.

“It will be fine, Commander,” she says. “I sense no hostility from him.”

Colt doesn’t look reassured by this, but the general steps past him, comes to a halt in front of Bruce with a smile. She folds slim red hands together, then bows over them, and says, “I am Jedi Master Shaak Ti. Kamino is far out of the way of anyone, but I can show you a star map if that will help you place yourself.”

“I can go get it, General!” Echo volunteers instantly, scrambling up, and Shaak turns her smile on him.

“Thank you, Echo, that would be most helpful,” she says, and Echo grins and grabs Fives, tugging him along as they hurry down the corridor. Bruce watches them go, feeling a tug in his chest and only able to think of his own sons, and—

When he looks around, Shaak is watching him closely, unnervingly aware. It feels a little like being stripped naked, all his flaws exposed, and Bruce tries his best not to grimace as he straightens his spine.

He’s never really liked the wise mystic type.

Instead of pressing, though, Shaak simply turns to the clone children with a gentle expression, slipping past Bruce to offer Dogma, still seated on the ground, her hands. It makes Colt tense, shifting closer in a way less grandstanding and more a threat. Bruce recognizes the look he’s wearing; it’s the kind of loyalty that’s bred under fire, won't waver no matter what.

He takes a deliberate step back, away from Shaak, and holds Colt's gaze. He’s not a threat to the general unless she makes herself a threat to him.

Thankfully, Shaak doesn’t even seem to notice their byplay; she takes Dogma's hands and pulls him to his feet, then gives CT-782 her arm. “Good morning, cadets,” she says warmly. “In between lessons, I take it?”

CT-4040 grins at her. “We were headed to Tactics when he fell out of the air,” he says, jerking a thumb at Bruce. “It looked like a wormhole or something.”

Shaak hums, interested. “Of course, you like astronomy, don’t you?”

CT-4040 flushes faintly, like any teenager faced with praise from a favorite teacher. “Yes, sir. I've never heard of a wormhole opening like _that_ before, though.”

“Neither have I,” Shaak agrees, and lays a hand on Droidbait’s head. “And you, CT-00-2—”

Droidbait pulls a face. “Echo says my name is Droidbait now,” he says. “Since I always get shot first.”

“Oh my.” Shaak raises a hand to her lips, and Bruce is looking for a spark of humor but he can't find one. “I can have a word with him, if you want.”

With a roll of his eyes, Droidbait shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “At least I'm not _Sinker_.”

“Sergeant Sinker is a valuable member of the Wolfpack,” Shaak says, slightly chiding.

“Yeah, but he got his name from sinking a ship,” Droidbait tells her, unimpressed. “A _spaceship_.”

That, finally, makes Shaak chuckle. “I've heard several stories about that,” she says. “But none from the sergeant himself. Something to look into, perhaps.”

“He’ll _never_ tell you the truth. You're a _general_. And besides, I think he has a crush on you,” Droidbait says, with the perfect carelessness of a younger sibling spilling embarrassing secrets. Then he asks, “Should we wait for Echo and Fives?”

Shaak tips her head. “No, head to class, the three of you. I’ll send them after you when they return. And if the teacher takes offense, tell him to speak to me.”

“Thank you, General,” CT-782 says, grinning. “Just to talk to you?”

Shaak makes a sound of amusement, reaching out to gently tap her knuckles against the top of his head. “ _Only_ if you make it to class in a reasonable amount of time,” she warns. “I’ll be sure to ask specifically.”

“Slag,” CT-782 curses, though not like he means it, and then, “Is that a mark on your lekku, sir?”

“ _Go_ ,” Shaak says, mildly exasperated, and the cadet smirks, then turns and picks up a jog. CT-4040 and Droidbait follow him with murmured farewells to Shaak, both of them giving Colt speculative glances that he returns with an expression that dares them to comment.

In their wake, Dogma glances after them, then bites his lip, clearly uncertain.

Seeing that, Shaak smiles sympathetically. “You’re all right, Dogma,” she says. “You and Tup only had a half-day today, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Dogma says promptly, like he’s giving a report. “We had piloting earlier, and then the rest of our squad went to the mess.”

Shaak smooths a hand over his dark hair, expression warm. “Well, they missed quite a bit of excitement, didn’t they? If you’d like, you can stay with me for a little while. Commander Colt and I just got back from the front, so we have no duties until tomorrow.”

Tup, still attached to the patterned sash over Shaak's long skirt, perks up at that. “We saw your ship land,” he says. “You're a good pilot, Commander.”

Colt raises a brow, looking amused. “It’s not hard to set down on Kamino,” he says, then eyes Bruce again. Pauses, and says gruffly, “Good thinking, coming to get us.”

“It was Dogma's idea,” Tup says loyally, and Dogma flushes.

“Oh yeah?” Colt drops a hand on Dogma's shoulder, pulling him a step closer, and loops an arm around his shoulders. “Good call, _ad’ika_.”

Bruce has to smile a little at the stunned look of pride that crosses Dogma's face, right behind an incandescent flush. Not quite like complimenting Damian, but—maybe there are shades of similarity.

“General?” Tup asks, peering up past the fall of Shaak's lekku. “What did CT-782 mean about you having a mark?”

Shaak raises a brow, then levels a look at Colt, who flushes. “Don’t you think my lek markings are pretty?” she asks, perfectly serene, and turns her head. A moment later, Bruce catches the sound of running steps, and finds Echo and Fives returning, out of breath.

“Here, sir!” Echo says proudly, and hands her a little device the size of an egg. “We should get to class.”

“Thank you, Echo,” Shaak says, and smiles at Fives. “Both of you. If the teacher tries to give you a demerit over being late, send him to me.”

“Yes, General!” Echo salutes, and Fives echoes him, slightly quicker and sloppier.

“General, is it true you blew up a whole Seppie fleet and rescued Commander Colt from Admiral Trench?” Fives asks, grinning. “Just with you and Commander Havoc?”

Shaak chuckles. “Well, most of the fleet was grounded at the time,” she says, but—that doesn’t sound like a denial. Bruce eyes her, and it was already a little strange to have someone like her be a general, but this is…interesting.

He would have expected Colt to be the high-ranking one between them, maybe with Shaak as a valuable civilian or something like a soothsayer. But that sounds like she was actually _fighting_.

Bruce quietly revises his opinion of her to _warrior monk_ , and wonders what other surprises are in store.

“Back to class,” Shaak says firmly, when it looks like Fives is going to demand the whole story. At his deep, wide-eyed pout, she sighs and relents, “Tonight, after dinner, you can hear the whole thing. I’ll be in my quarters.”

Fives _beams_. “Thanks, General Ti!” he says, and lets Echo pull him away again, back down the hall in the direction the other cadets disappeared in.

With a sound of amusement, Shaak straightens, resting a hand on Tup's shoulders, and offers Bruce a smile. “Forgive the delay. Here.” She activates the device, and suddenly they're standing in a field of stars and systems, long, bright lines marking routes between them. A dark line encircles most of the galaxy, and beyond it only a scattered handful of systems have been mapped. Bruce frowns, trying to find anything familiar, but—

“This area, it’s unexplored?” he asks, brushing his fingers through the mostly unmarked space.

Shaak inclines her head, stepping forward to touch one particularly bright star. “This is where we are,” she says. “The Kaminoan system. Beyond us is Wild Space, and beyond that are the Unknown Regions. Could your wormhole have come from deeper within them?”

Bruce breathes out. He’s not worried about the League; they’re more than strong enough to deal with the handful of pirates they were facing. He’s not particularly worried about Gotham, either; Dick and Jason are both present, and Jason has his Outlaws with him. They’ll keep the city safe. But—whether this is a different dimension or just another section of space, the best thing he can do is wait for rescue. Given the distances involved, and the fact that it was magic that brought him here, his chances of getting back on his own are…poor.

A gentle hand touches the back of his gauntlet, and Bruce looks up from the clear calluses on the red skin into Shaak's gentle expression, and has to take a breath.

“Forgive me,” Shaak says softly. “I can't help but feel your distress. You are more than welcome to stay here as long as you need, stranger.”

Bruce sighs out a breath, resigns himself to waiting. “Thank you,” he says. “It’s Bruce.”

“Bruce,” Shaak echoes, and bows her head. She’s wearing some kind of jewelry made out of teeth, and Bruce eyes it, wondering if it’s a fashion statement or something ritualistic. If, maybe, she was the one to take those teeth, given the way her hand is callused. “Well met.”

“Well met,” Bruce repeats, faintly bemused, and glances over at Colt, who looks resigned more than anything. “Do you usually take in anyone who falls out of a wormhole in your military base?”

Shaak chuckles, holding out a hand, and Bruce only hesitates a moment before he takes it. “The Force brought you here at just the moment when we could meet,” she says serenely. “I do not believe that there are coincidences, Bruce. Only acts of the Force, bringing people into each other’s lives.”

Bruce raises a brow, not quite able to help himself, and slants another glance at Colt.

Colt, speakingly, just rolls his eyes. “She’s a Jedi,” he says, like that should explain everything. Like it’s supposed to hide the fond curl of his mouth. “They’re all ridiculous. Shaak's one of the better ones.”

“Better?” Shaak echoes, and looks down at Tup. “Do you think I'm simply _better_ , Tup?”

Tup grins at her shyly. “I think you're the _best_ ,” he says firmly.

Shaak chuckles. “Thank you. I'm glad to be first in someone’s regard.” She curls her fingers over Bruce's for a long moment, then glances up at him, and says, “You are a good man. There is light in you, even when it flickers.”

Bruce's throat is tight, and he can't quite figure out how to respond.

Before he has to, though, Colt claps a light hand to his shoulder, squeezes. It’s almost tight enough to be a challenge. “General, leave the man’s brain alone.”

“I would hardly touch more than surface emotions without permission,” Shaak says, mild. “But the Force gives me a sense of such things.”

Empath, then. Or just…mind magic. Bruce grimaces, and Colt snorts in clear agreement. Shaak laughs, lifting her hand, and steps away. “Very well,” she says. “If that’s your stance.”

“You know you’re my favorite, General,” Colt tells her, amused.

Bruce only sees it because he’s looking for tells, but—Colt's fingers brush Shaak's lekku—singular, so a lek, maybe—as he passes, and Shaak's breath hitches faintly. She doesn’t otherwise react, just gives him a glance, and Colt keeps moving, Dogma still under his other arm.

Usually it’s not Bruce having indecent thoughts about people he’s just met, but—well. It’s been a while since Bruce brought home a date, and Shaak and Colt are both beautiful. A man can't help…certain images.

Shaak glances up at him, a flicker of a sly smile curling her silver lips, but Bruce is an old hat at this game. He just raises a brow in return, and she chuckles.

“We’ll have get to know each other better,” she says, too calm to be an innuendo. Bruce tells himself he’s not disappointed, but…Brucie’s playboy habits are hard to break. “Will it be long before your friends come looking for you?”

“Potentially,” Bruce says with a faint grimace. After all, it was one of the pirates who sent him here, and most of the League’s magic-users are off with Constantine and the Justice League Dark right now. Getting back to Earth, finding them, and then getting them out to the place where the League was, and _then_ redoing the spell, will probably take at least a few weeks. “Sorry to intrude.”

Shaak shakes her head, and her smile is warm. “It is no intrusion. You are welcome here, Bruce.”

“Maybe you can explain why you look like a Mandalorian when you're from the Unknown Regions,” Colt says, eyeing him, and there’s a touch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Bruce meets it with narrowed eyes, and—well. Someone who’s apparently human, unenhanced and willing to spar? That’s not overly common, outside of Gotham. Bruce isn't about to turn the offer down.

“Mandalorian?” Bruce repeats.

“With the armor!” Tup says brightly.

“And the cloak,” Dogma agrees. “We’re Mandalorian, but we don’t get cloaks. Not unless we’re going to ice planets.”

“Not _yet_ ,” Colt says, and when Shaak gives him a look, he smirks at her. Says something, the tongue rolling over vowels and full of hard stops between consonants.

Whatever it is, it makes Shaak laugh a little, and she says in return, “You haven’t asked me yet, Colt. Once you do, I’ll answer.”

“That’s a cop-out,” Colt complains, but he doesn’t look unhappy with it. Glances at Bruce, and then says, “Mandalorians are the best warriors in the known galaxy. Think you can keep up?”

Bruce considers. “Human?” he asks, curious more than anything.

Colt shrugs. “Mandalorians don’t care. Value family, fight well, keep the code, and you're Mandalorian. Species doesn’t matter.”

“Yes,” Bruce says without hesitation, and Colt's eyes narrow, expression shading towards interest.

“Later,” Shaak says firmly. “I believe I need a bath. We were on the front for too long.”

“For a Sep prison, the ‘fresher wasn’t bad,” Colt says, only a little dry. “I’ll get us food. Dogma, Tup, you too?”

“Yes please,” Dogma says, and Tup nods. When Colt raises a brow at him, Bruce inclines his head, accepting the unspoken offer. If they're feeding it to the kids, it’s likely safe. Tup and Dogma certainly seem like they're happy enough, as far as pre-teens go, and Bruce likes to think he’d be able to tell if it were just a front.

Still, it’s mildly bewildering, that they’ve taken him in so easily. Bruce watches Colt and Shaak for a moment, the two of them with their heads bent together, and—

Well. He hasn’t seen a single hostile move from either of them yet. Wariness, yes, but no aggression. Maybe they're just hiding it, but—

Shaak glances back, smiles at him.

It’s not often Bruce lets himself go and stops worrying, or even enjoys himself, but maybe he can make an exception. Just this once.


End file.
